


some things you can't get away with

by memitims



Series: consider ur fav ship [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Blanket Stealing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memitims/pseuds/memitims
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ian is a blanket thief and mickey is freezing cold</p>
            </blockquote>





	some things you can't get away with

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by bullet point #2 on [this](http://zoroasterperetola.tumblr.com/post/90887735050/yes-but-consider-ur-fav-ship-making-rly-bad) ('yes but consider ur fav ship FIGHTING OVER BLANKETS IN BED')

There are boys who wear their hearts on their sleeves. Mickey Milkovich is not one of them. His heart is broken and twisted and not for the world to see. Instead, it becomes half-hidden smiles creeping over his face, shaky tears wiped from his lonely eyes, the way he leans into Ian's mouth (Ian's stupidly warm mouth) when they are kissing, the touch of his hand over soft red hair. 

He lets Ian decipher it himself, because for some reason, this kid has the key to the prison around Mickey's heart. It just happened. One day, Mickey realized that Ian could see past all his bullshit, past all his swearing and intimidation and sharp words. Mickey cracked like thin ice, and he let it happen, because if he wanted anyone to see inside him, it would be Ian (Mickey still hasn't decided if this is scary or pretty fucking great). 

Unfortunately, this means that Ian gets to be a little shit and Mickey lets him get away with it. Because he loves him, or what the fuck ever. 

Mickey wakes up freezing cold, because Ian (the asshole), hogs the fucking sheets. It had taken a few days before Mickey realized this, and when he confronted him about it, Ian denied everything (He jokingly told Mickey that he must have the wrong guy, and Mickey, in some rare instance of bizarre honesty, told Ian that there was no one else, never had been and never would be, and Ian shut up pretty quickly). 

And now, Mickey has the proof right in front of his fucking eyes. He still gets a little warmth from Ian's chest pressed across his back, but all the sheets are curled around Ian's body, a cocoon of heat that Mickey desperately wants to be a part of. He nestles back into Ian's body, trying to get more, more, more (but it isn't enough). 

"Fuck it," he whispers to himself. 

Mickey flips around in Ian's arms and raises his hand to shake Ian's shoulder. He almost feels bad, because Ian looks peaceful and content, his brow smooth and his lips quirked into a small smile. Mickey pretends not to think about the fact that he might have caused that smile, but he can't help himself. He doesn't have much practice making other people happy, so he takes what he can get. Ian's flat-out told him, before, how much Mickey brightens his life, and Mickey hadn't been sure how to respond. Like usual, Mickey just tries to show him instead.  _Same here_ , he breathes into his kisses,  _me too_ , he smiles against Ian's skin,  _you make me so fuckin' happy_ , he pours into every cup of coffee he makes for Ian.

"Ian," he says gently, "Ian, wake the fuck up and give me back some covers. I'm really fucking cold." He shivers (to prove his point).

"No," Ian says, sleepily, because he's a dick. 

"Fuck you."

"Not tonight," he murmurs back. 

Mickey punches him in the shoulder. Ian lets out a little noise of surprise, but he keeps his eyes closed and the blankets tight around his body. Mickey's gonna fucking kill him. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ian giggles a little, and now Mickey knows he's just teasing, trying to get a rise out of him, and Mickey plays along, because he doesn't get many opportunities to just be fucking silly and stupid and simply forget everything fucked up about his life. He thinks this is probably another way he shows Ian his heart. 

Mickey sits up and twists around, getting right up in Ian's face. He smiles, wide, at Ian's closed eyelids. They flutter open, slowly, and he gets this stupid look in his eyes when he sees Mickey's grin up close, the same look Mickey had tried to ignore for years, before he realized it might be one of his favorite things in the world and he couldn't never see it again, couldn't just forget about it, couldn't pretend it hadn't turned his world on its axis.

"Give me some fucking blankets, Gallagher, or I'll kick you out of this bed." Mickey raises his eyebrows, smiling even wider. 

Ian gasps, dramatically. "You wouldn't dare. You like cuddling with me too much."

Mickey doesn't deny it (yeah, okay, it's kinda true), but just repeats himself. Now Ian's smiling at him, his eyes blinking sleepily, so fucking unbelievably endearing. Mickey couldn't dream this stuff up if he tried. 

Ian sighs. "Fine, whatever, bossy pants," because he's just as fucking whipped as Mickey, no matter how hard he pretends not to be. Ian unravels the sheets from his body and throws half of them around Mickey.

Mickey grins, triumphantly. He pulls them tight around his legs, and squirms closer to Ian under the blankets. They're still facing each other, and Ian's still looking at him, still looking at him like  _that_ , and it's times like these that Mickey wishes he had an easier time saying what Ian deserves to hear. He can't though, maybe someday, but he can't today, so he settles on tangling their fingers together between their bodies, pushing his affection through the delicate pads on his fingertips, because he knows Ian will understand. He knows Ian will understand that his heart is not an open book, that even if you do pry open the pages, it's not even written in fucking English, but Ian can translate the words. Always could, right from the beginning.

Mickey breathes deeply, and watches Ian see right through him. It's lame, the way this makes his chest feel tight and his cheeks warm, but Mickey wouldn't trade this feeling for the world. He doesn't care that Ian steals the sheets, that he can talk about his emotions in a way Mickey wasn't built to do, that his family is big and crazy and overwhelming, that Ian's stupid grin screwed up Mickey's promise to never  _feel_  these things (like Mickey even had a chance), he honestly just plain doesn't care. 

He never was any good at acceptance, not until Ian came around. And although parts of him are still hidden, he makes sure Ian knows the truth. 

Mickey shows Ian everything.


End file.
